I Like You
by thepinkunicorn
Summary: Quentin is Misto, Ian is Tugger; human!AU Quentin doesn't know how he allowed himself to get dragged to Ian Tugger's concert by Demeter. But it had happened, and he had somehow met the man, and now... he was being stalked by an international pop sensation? A story in which Ian tries to woo a "I want nothing to do with you" Quentin. Disclaimer: I am not Andrew Lloyd Webber. Sadly.


Quentin regretted ever agreeing to go to this concert with Demeter.

Hordes of girls were standing in droves around him, screaming at the top of their lungs, almost overpowering the loud, pounding music that blasted from the six-foot tall speakers standing only ten feet away from him. Bright, multi-colored hues of light blinded him from the stage, and he wondered if he could get some ear plugs somewhere.

Demeter, who was standing beside him, grabbed his shoulders and shook him excitedly, screaming in his ear.

"Quentin! I'm so excited! Aren't you?!"

He grimaced, and angled himself away from her mouth, so as to prolong his good hearing while he still had it.

"So excited," he deadpanned, and she glared at him for a moment before releasing him and jumping up and down, squealing, as the lights flickered to cue the entrance of the upcoming performance.

He sighed and rolled his eyes as he pondered what he had done to deserve this living hell.

When Demeter had come up to him last week, showing him the front row tickets she had procured for Ian Tugger's sold-out concert, he had scoffed at the stupidity of it all. Ever since the man had emerged from the music industry, girls had been enraptured with his "gorgeous body" and his "rough, sensuous voice."

Even Demeter had been caught up in the hype. When she had asked him to accompany her to the man's concert, he had been ready to outright refuse, but when she gave him her signature puppy-dog eyes, he reconsidered.

He hadn't really been to a concert since he was little, and he had never sat front row before, so even though he despised the music sensation that was Ian Tugger, he thought it could still be amusing to go - especially since Demeter had lit up when he had said yes.

What he did for his best friend.

He sighed and braced himself for the roar of the crowd that was sure to grow louder as soon as the pop sensation hit the stage.

He could feel the tension in the air like it was something tangible he could reach out and touch. Demeter was shaking excitedly beside him and Quentin wondered whether he could pretend to go to the bathroom and just stand outside the stadium for the whole concert.

But he couldn't leave Demeter alone. Not only would she kill him, but he'd feel awful about it.

All too soon, the crowd had grown restless and had started chanting the musician's name, growing louder each time they uttered "Ian! Ian! Ian! Ian!" until the stadium echoed with the two syllables.

Quentin drew in a sharp intake of breath as everyone in the crowd started screaming all of a sudden, louder than they had before, and he spotted a glimpse of the man they had all been waiting for by the side of the stage, before he felt a sharp pain rattle though his head and everything went black.

When Quentin opened his eyes, harsh fluorescent lighting glared down at him, causing sharp pricks of pain to puncture all his pain receptors.

He squeezed his eyes shut immediately and grabbed his head, hoping and praying for the stars behind his closed eyelids to stop spinning. He tried to sit up, but couldn't muster up the strength. His ears would not stop ringing.

Suddenly, hands grasped at his shoulders, and a familiar voice shouted at him through the haze. "Quentin!? Quentin! Can you hear me?!"

It was Demeter's voice, sounding frantic and shrill.

He tried to tell her that yes, he was fine, and could she stop yelling, please, but couldn't get anything out of his mouth but a few unintelligible gurgles.

Another voice spoke, calmly this time, in a quiet, soothing tone beside his ear. "Quentin? Can you hear me?"

Why did everyone keep asking him that question? He tried to ask, but it came out more of, "Whado aske?"

"That's okay," came the voice again. "Just take it easy."

Why did he have to take it easy?

Then, when he again tried to open his eyes, and the stabbing in his head resumed tenfold, he realized why.

"Wha happen?" he managed to choke out, as his eyes slowly, and painfully, adjusted to the brightness of the room. Soon, he was able to see Demeter's face looking down at him worriedly, and he tried to reassure her he was okay with a shaky smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.

"Don't you remember?" Demeter asked him, her forehead crinkling with concern.

The voice spoke again. "He might have temporary amnesia about the event."

Demeter looked off to his left and frowned visibly.

"What event?" Quentin asked, extremely confused as to where he was and why he was there. Why weren't they at the concert?

"You suffered a major blow to the head," the voice replied.

"Wait. What?" Quentin had no idea what the voice was talking about, and he watched as Demeter's mouth quirked into a smile.

"A fan accidentally hit you from behind and knocked you out," she told him, amusement twinkling in her eyes.

Suddenly, everything came back to Quentin. The screaming, seeing Ian Tugger emerge from the side of the stage, the incredible pain at the back of his skull. He moved to touch it, and felt a large knot already formed near the top of his head.

He groaned. Only he would be this unlucky.

"Am I okay?"

"You're absolutely fine. A minor concussion, but nothing major. You should be completely back to normal in a couple of weeks. But I'm going to have you stay backstage until the end of the concert. Bright lights and loud sounds will not help your condition in the slightest," the voice again spoke.

Quentin breathed a sigh of relief, and moved to sit up, slowly this time.

Demeter grabbed his arm, and led him up to a sitting position. Finally he was able to see where he was. He was sitting on a stretcher, in a small white room filled with a table and a few armchairs, in which one of them sat a young woman dressed in a paramedic uniform.

She smiled kindly at him. "How are you feeling?"

Quentin grimaced slightly. "Like there are a thousand tiny little knives constantly stabbing me in the head."

Her lips quirked, and her eyes twinkled. "I bet." She moved to get up, and walked over to the table where there lay a large red bag with a white cross and the words "First Aid" on it. From it, she pulled a large bottle of Aspirin, and a small bottle of water.

As she handed him the small water, and three Aspirins, she smiled at him. "You're going to feel pain for the next week, so I advise taking two tablets every six hours to alleviate some of the pain. I also advise avoiding large blunt objects and screaming fans for the next month," she smirked. "Think you can handle that?"

Quentin smiled as he swallowed the three pills all at once, and nodded. "I think I can manage that."

"Good," she smiled, as she turned to pack up her bag and walk to the door. "I think I can leave you in good hands, now."

Demeter smirked and saluted at the young woman. "Aye, aye, Doc! You can count on me!"

Quentin rolled his eyes, regarding his best friend with an exasperated sigh.

Always so melodramatic.

The door clicked shut behind the paramedic, and then they were alone. They both sat there for a few moments, not sure how to break the silence, when Quentin suddenly burst out, "I'm so sorry, Dem! I know how much you were looking forward to seeing this concert, and then I had to go and ruin it!"

Demeter just turned to him and laughed. "Only you would apologize for getting knocked unconscious."

Quentin made an indignant noise in the back of his throat, and opened his mouth to retort, when she silenced him with her hand.

"Seriously, Quentin. It's okay. It's not your fault. Besides," her eyes turned mischievous, then; a malicious grin quirking her lips, "now I have the chance to explore Ian Tugger's dressing room!"

Her voice squeaked as she said his name, and Quentin groaned, wondering why he hadn't seen this coming. He should have seen this coming.

Demeter leapt up off the stretcher, and Quentin could see her practically tingling with excitement. She grabbed his arm, pulling him with her, urging him on his feet, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet in a flurry of anticipation.

He felt dizzy for a moment as he grew accustomed to his center of gravity shifting, willing the stars whirling around his head to still, and Demeter looked at him, concern furrowing her brow.

"You okay?" she asked him.

He paused, and then nodded, and immediately he was pulled along to the door, and out into the empty hall.

Quentin was a bit surprised as to the lack of security personnel in the long, junk-cluttered hallway, but Demeter didn't seem to even pause to think about it as she side-stepped a small speaker, and started trotting down the hall, glancing left and right at all the doors they passed along the way.

He didn't really know what she was looking for. A large plaque emblazoned with the musician's name on it? A huge glittery silver star hanging from the door like you saw in the movies?

He wasn't sure, but it seemed like Demeter did. He suddenly had a thought. Had she been planning this ever since he had been brought backstage? Had she been observing the hallways they had passed through for an idea of where to go when she had the chance to explore? It sounded just like something Demeter would do.

They passed through hallway after hallway. He had no idea how this area could be so large. Granted, Victoria Grove Concert Hall was the largest building in the city, but he never considered the fact that it could be this _enormous_.

Quentin continued to trail along behind Demeter quietly, formulating an excuse in his head as to why they were roaming around in case a security guard found them, even though he didn't find it very probable, considering how long they had been wandering around, and hadn't yet come across a single person.

Eventually she stopped, and Quentin had to catch himself to avoid crashing into her. They were standing in front of a door that looked just like the ones they had been passing for the past few minutes. The only difference was a "Do Not Disturb" sign hanging from the doorknob, and a piece of printer paper taped to the door, with the words "Dressing Room" printed on it.

Demeter was staring at it like she had just discovered the Holy Grail. "This is it," she whispered, and Quentin watched as she turned to look at him with a look of unbridled glee. Oh God. What had he gotten himself into?

Before he could so much as blink, Demeter had grabbed the doorknob and pushed the door open. Quentin opened his mouth to protest, but Demeter didn't even pause before walking inside.

Quentin stood there for a moment, weighing his options, before deciding he really didn't want to get caught loitering in the hallway by himself. At least if he was with Demeter, he could blame the whole thing on her.

Bracing himself for the conflict he was sure was about to ensue, he stepped inside the dressing room...

To find Demeter staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the flashiest rack of clothing he had ever seen in his life. His eyes felt like they were being attacked by a multi-colored unicorn, and the bright flashes of rhinestones and poofs of feathers made him feel like he was back with his little sisters playing dress-up. He didn't know whether to look away or puke. Maybe both.

Demeter, on the other hand, seemed to know exactly what she wanted to do.

"This is the most absolutely amazing thing ever!" she shrieked, as she flung herself at the rack of costumes, wrapping herself in swathes of fur and layers of satiny ribbons.

Quentin couldn't help but roll his eyes and snort.

His friend stopped to glare at him. "What's so funny?"

Quentin couldn't stop the chuckle that burst from his lips. The whole thing was just so absurd. The chuckle turned into a giggle, and the giggle turned into a laugh, and soon enough he was doubled over in pure mirth, clutching at his sides. "It looks like-" he swallowed a deep breath, trying to get a sentence out, "he mutilated a-" he swiped at the tears appearing in the corner of his eyes, "a unicorn and a peacock!"

Demeter continued to glare at him, but she couldn't stay serious for long, and soon enough she was laughing right along with him. "It does, doesn't it?" she grinned.

Quentin nodded, completely out of breath, but instantly froze when he heard a deep, unfamiliar voice say, "And what, may I ask, is so funny?" from behind him.

He heard Demeter squeak as he twirled around, smile completely gone, to see none other than Ian Tugger standing in the doorway.

Shit.

Quentin stood there, speechless, mind completely blank of all the excuses he had made up not minutes before, gaping at the one man he most definitely did not want to see. He had no idea what to do, and thankfully, he didn't have to figure it out, because Demeter broke the silence for him.

"Ohmigodisyou!" she slurred out in an excited squeal.

Ian raised an eyebrow, and shifted his gaze to Demeter. "Might I ask who you are?"

It was then that Quentin finally found the will to move.

"We were just leaving," he burst out, as he turned to grab Demeter by the arm, and pull her forward, before he ran into a huge wall of muscle.

"So sorry," came the deep, rumbling voice from above him. "I can't let you do that."

Quentin glanced up at the face of his detainer, and gulped. How were they going to get out of this mess?

"Oh, but we really must. The paramedic who brought us back here is going to wonder where we are," Quentin rushed out, hoping he sounded convincing.

A flicker of recognition flashed across Ian's face, and he raised his eyebrows at Quentin. "Are you the one who got knocked unconscious by a fan?"

Quentin furrowed his brow, and grimaced. "So?"

Ian smirked. "Oh, nothing. It's just interesting to meet the person who was incompetent enough to get knocked unconscious by a flailing _limb_ face-to-face."

Quentin glared at the brown-haired musician. "What can I say? I didn't realize people could get so excited over a musician as trite as you, so I wasn't really paying attention."

Ian just laughed. "You're cute. I like you."

Quentin took a step back, feeling a bit confused, and a bit offended.

"So what's your name?" Ian asked, grabbing an apple from a bowl on the table beside him that Quentin hadn't even realized was there.

Quentin ignored the question, instead opting to just glare at the man, hoping maybe he could intimidate Ian into letting them go.

He didn't expect Demeter to pipe in behind him, "Quentin. His name is Quentin."

Ian grinned at her. "Thanks, darling."

Quentin heard Demeter squeal excitedly at the pet name, and he rolled his eyes. At this rate, they were never going to leave.

"So, Quentin," Ian eyed him hungrily, as he took a bite of the apple, "if you think I'm so awful, why were you at my concert in the first place?"

Quentin couldn't help but watch, mesmerized, as Ian chewed slowly, droplets of juice dangling precariously from the edge of his bottom lip.

"I was guilted into coming," he finally responded bitterly, glancing at Demeter behind him for the first time since Ian had appeared, who shot him a look.

"Ah ha. I see," the brunette nodded sagely. "And yet I find you back here in my dressing room."

"Don't flatter yourself," Quentin spat out. "It wasn't my idea."

Ian glanced over at Demeter again, and the edges of his lips quirked. "Well. I'm glad you have such a forceful girlfriend," he said, as he looked back to Quentin, and winked.

Quentin blinked, extremely confused. Girlfriend?

It was about two seconds before Demeter opened her mouth that he realized Ian's false assumption.

"Oh, we're n-" Quentin stuck out his arm quickly and muffled Demeter's words, before pulling her close to him.

"Yes, girlfriend. Well, that makes one of us," he muttered, and he, for the second time, began pulling Demeter forward, trying to push past the musician that was towering above him.

Ian kept moving backwards along with Quentin, grinning, until he was leaning casually against the door.

"Can you let us out, please?" Quentin ground out, scowling up at the brunette.

"Eh. I don't know… I think I need a little_ convincing_," the smile he was giving Quentin was positively predatory.

Quentin couldn't do anything but stare, unable to comprehend the whirlwind of emotions that was rising in his chest. This guy just wouldn't quit.

"If you give me your number, maybe I'll consider letting you guys go."

Quentin could just feel Demeter's silent scream, and he couldn't stanch a rising sense of dislike well up in his throat.

He paused, suddenly feeling dizzy, and realized it wasn't dislike rushing up from the depths of his stomach, but a large amount of bile.

A few seconds later, he was staring at a pile of vomit resting on a pair of shiny black shoes, and then his vision went blurry, and for the second time that night, his consciousness faded into nothing.


End file.
